Reunion
by Boriscat42
Summary: Elrond and Glorfindel land in Valinor at the end of the Third Age, hoping to find Celebrian and Ecthelion waiting for them there. Sequel to Embers. Glorfindel/Ecthelion


Elrond gazed into the lights of Aqualonde as his grey ship parted the frothy waters of the Eldamar. Glorfindel was beside him, and his face was lit with an ethereal glow as he looked upon shores that he had forsaken nearly ten thousand years earlier. Both leaned over the ship's side, straining to make out a wharf or a beach, willing the wind to blow more strongly into the sails.

"Tell me about Valinor, Glorfindel." Elrond was nearly shouting to be heard over the breaking waves.

"I was very young when I left. Doubtless it has changed much since the Noontide. The Valinor I remember shone silver with its own light, and the cities were paved with marble and precious gems. The flowers of Middle Earth are only pale replicas of those in the West, which are larger and brighter of color. It is a paradise."

"Your family's home was in Tirion?"

"Yes. I hope that walking there once more will erase my longing for Gondolin, but I am afraid that it may not. Gondolin was never a perfect model of Tirion, not even in Turgon's eyes, and though it was somewhat dimmer, a bit rougher at the seams and corners, it had its own eccentricities and rhythm."

Elrond was somewhat comforted to find his own nervousness mirrored by Glorfindel, and decided to probe his friend's emotions a bit further. "Ecthelion was one of those eccentricities, was he not?"

The question surprised Glorfindel. He had not spoken of Ecthelion since Celebrian's departure, and he was amazed that Elrond remembered. "He was. My time in Tirion was distinctly lacking in that respect. Possibly my memories of Gondolin have been so saturated with his personality that to meet him in Tirion would drain the former of its color. But the phantoms of many other friends will always haunt the image of Gondolin in my mind."

"Do you expect to see Ecthelion… when we land? Will he be waiting?"

"I wish I knew. Perhaps he has left Mandos' halls, or perhaps he remains."

"Your desire to see him is written in your eyes."

"Of course. This has been my greatest desire for centuries. I must admit that I will be sorely disappointed if Celebrian alone sees us off the ship, much as I wish to see her."

"You seem so certain that my wife will meet us. But if she does not? Where should I seek her? Where should I go, when this ship leaves harbor?"

"Unless some great evil has come to pass in the interim, my family has not left Tirion. I shall rejoin them, and should you find yourself alone, you will be welcome among us."

"I should not impose…"

"If that is your concept of imposition, Elrond, why have I lived among your kin since the Second Age? You are welcome among us because I insist that you are, whether you choose to accept this or no. But have faith in Celebrian. I do not believe that she is weak enough to perish in the Undying Lands, whatever wounds she may have sustained."

"I certainly hope that you are correct. The nature of the assault should have caused her to fade before leaving Middle Earth. I suppose that it is a testament to her will that she survived until reaching Valinor."

"You will see her again. Do not fear."

"I wonder if her hair is still as silver as I remember it to be…"

Elrond's thought trailed off, drowned out by a great commotion among the sailors. Preparations for landing had begun. The vessel was now so near the harbor that the two men in the bow could make out the silhouettes of the crowd surrounding the docks. The seas grew calmer, nearly glassy, and the sails were furled tightly around the masts.

"Only a few more moments. After so much time, only a few more moments." Glorfindel murmured, nearly to himself. He placed a hand on Elrond's shoulder, whether to steady his companion or himself unsure.

Mithrandir's voice summoned them from inside the cabin: "Elrond, Glorfindel, we are about to land! Come in and gather your things, and make yourselves presentable." Glorfindel turned toward the doorway, and Elrond trailed behind, glancing back over his shoulder at the approaching port and tripping over a curious hobbit.

By the time that their luggage and their robes were arranged to Mithrandir's satisfaction, the ship was being tied fast to a dock. The voices of the crowd waiting on the shore rose and fell and blended with the sound of the breaking surf into a dull roar that washed over the passengers' ears as they stepped onto the deck. Elrond's arrival had been anticipated for several years, as others returned from Middle Earth with news of his involvement in the War of the Rings, and the standard of his house flew from the mast. No golden flower accompanied it, for in the confusion of packing and tearful goodbyes, the banner that Arwen had embroidered for Glorfindel was lost in some parcel in the ship's hold.

Elrond stepped onto the dock first. He stumbled, accustomed to the gentle rocking motion of the ship, and then found his footing. Mithrandir followed him, then Erestor and Frodo. Glorfindel came with Bilbo, moving slowly and deliberately to accommodate the hobbit's extreme old age. The onlookers gazed up at them as they made their way towards the shore, and Glorfindel scoured the crowd for familiar faces, recognizing a few ancient friends.

Then Elrond gasped. Glorfindel looked over the shoulder of a widely grinning Mithrandir to see what had elicited the reaction; finding the object of Elrond's interest, he also inhaled sharply, but with considerably different emotion.

Celebrian was gliding down the boardwalk toward them, her hair and gown flowing in the sea wind, all wounds and trauma behind her. The light of Valinor was refracted in her eyes and intensified, and she emerged from the veil of coastal mist like a sunlit moon.

Alone.

Glorfindel's heart shattered like a goblet thrown against a marble ceiling, and every shard of crystal cut him as it fell, turning and glittering lethally in the glow of Elrond and Celebrian's reunion. But outwardly, Glorfindel only slacked his grip on Bilbo's cloaked shoulder, setting his face into a mask of stone and etching a beatific smile upon it as the lady addressed him.

"Welcome, Lord Glorfindel. Valinor is much improved by your presence."

"Thank you my lady, though I cannot believed that Valinor greatly missed me while you walked here."

"Your tongue is as honeyed now as ever. Let us leave this pier, for there are many who will desire to meet you all."

Elrond was still stunned by his lady's presence, and beamed silently throughout this exchange. Erestor, Mithrandir, and the hobbits—one of whom had left Glorfindel's side without his notice—were already far ahead and upon solid ground. Glorfindel began to walk again, but his body was numb.

They reached the shore in silence, and the crowd parted to allow them passage. Glorfindel drew more eyes than either of his companions, for his presence was unexpected and his name legendary. He greeted friends and strangers with the same stony detachment, and the hands that reached out to touch his robes or his hair escaped his notice. Together with his traveling companions, he walked toward city gates that were flung wide open to welcome them.

Then Elrond and Celebrian fell behind Glorfindel, and he raised his eyes from the stones of the street, brought back to his senses by their sudden movement. Mithrandir and his companions had stepped to the curb, as if waiting for the second party to catch up, but then Elrond and Celebrian stopped walking too, and Glorfindel was left alone. Disconcerted, he slowed his steps and searched the street ahead for the cause of their behavior.

Striding through the gates came a lord tall and mighty, his silver robes billowing as he advanced. His hair fell to his waist, black but gleaming blue in the sun, and as he drew closer, Glorfindel saw the blue flames in his eyes and trembled.

"Ecthelion?" There was hope in his voice, mingled with disbelief.

"Glorfindel." It was a statement, not a question. They stopped, facing each other from a few paces, and time seemed to liquefy and ripple golden and thick and warm around them.

And then Glorfindel closed the distance. He seized Ecthelion, and Gorthmog loomed before them, and their parade armor melted in the heat of the inferno, but this time that molten metal sealed them together in each other's arms instead of burning them alone. The terrible whip bore down upon them, but they were safe together for one last moment, and Glorfindel kissed his fellow warrior with the fury of the walls and towers of Gondolin caving in upon them. Then Gorthmog fell with two swords impaling his chest and the waters of the fountain rose in vapors above them and neither could breathe and neither could see and with their lips locked together they expelled their last breath and the end came.

Gasping for breath, they opened their eyes, but instead of the halls of Mandos, they beheld the white port of Aqualonde, and instead of their fallen comrades of the Gondolin guard, they were surrounded by the multitudes that had gathered to welcome Elrond of Imladris to Valinor. As the crowd whistled and cheered, Ecthelion leaned in again.

"I love you" he whispered, and his voice shook.

"Six thousand years, Thelion. Six thousand years."

"I know. Welcome home."


End file.
